The Beginning of the End (Book 1): Toward the Brink

by Craig A. McDonough

  “Oh God, Mom’s sick, Dad. She’s sick. We have to help her. We have to help her!”

  “I’m sorry, Elliot. I’m really sorry.”

  “Well, fuck you!”

  Elliot moved back to the front door and began frantically pulling on it, but it wouldn’t budge. With his last tug, he pulled the handle free of the door and tumbled to the carpet. In his dream, he looked at the handle and thought that he wasn’t that strong. As he lay sprawled on the living room floor, a knocking began at the front door, lightly at first but soon picking up in intensity. Though it sounded like far more than one person knocking, Elliot was sure it was his mother.

  “It’s Mom. She wants to come in, Dad. She wants to …”

  The knocking on the front door soon gave way to banging on the security grill outside the store.

  “Uh, what the …” a tired Elliot mumbled. He was unaware of his surroundings until he laid eyes on the Tall Man. Then he understood the banging, the shaking, and the wild growls at the front of the store. “Chuck. Chuck, wake up. The fucking foamers are here!”

  He crawled off of his camp stool over to the Tall Man and began shaking him vigorously.

  “What the fuck is happening here?” It was Mulhaven; he’d been woken by the noise. “You fell asleep, both of ya!”

  The Tall Man was up after a couple of shakes. Unlike Elliot, he knew exactly where he was.

  “Never mind the rebuke, Mulhaven. Where’s the other two?”

  “In the back room.”

  “You stay with them. Shotguns, buddy. Shotguns, okay?” The Tall Man didn’t have to elaborate. Riley Mulhaven had been around long enough to understand. He also understood why Mr. Black had brought so many shotguns with him from Neddy’s gun store. He knew how to handle things. That was for damn sure.

  The growling and clawing at the security grate outside the door increased. The foamers knew they were inside.

  “Where’s the van, Mulhaven?” Elliot called out.

  “It’s out back, a ten-yard sprint at most!”

  Elliot and the Tall Man exchanged looks then took a few steps back.

  “Now!” the Tall Man yelled.

  A volley of shots from a Remington 1100 and an AR-15 sounded. They didn’t know if they hit anything or not, but that wasn’t the point. The calamity of the broken glass, animal moans, and the gunshots would focus the attention of the foamers on the front of the store. That was when they would make their escape.

  “One more volley!” yelled the Tall Man.

  Again, shots rang out. Then Elliot and the Tall Man fled from the store and darted for the back door, reloading on the way.

  “Everyone ready?” Elliot added.

  “Have we got all the supplies we need in the van?”

  “I don’t know, Cindy, but we don’t have time to worry about that now. We have to go!” Elliot shouted.

  Everyone looked behind them when the metal security grate across the front window was torn from its mounting.

  “Elliot, you take point. When you get to the van, take cover at the front,” Mulhaven told Elliot, then said to Allan and Cindy, “You two wait right behind him, okay? Black, you take position by the back doors of the van!”

  “Where are you going to be?” Cindy was still clutching the blanket that had covered her in her restless sleep. She held it like the stuffed fabric doll her grandmother made for her when she was young. Whenever scared or lonely, she would hold onto that doll. She was wishing she had it now.

  “I’ll be right behind Black. Don’t worry; I’m not waiting around to introduce myself to these fuckers!” Elliot assured her.

  “GO, GO, GO!” Mulhaven yelled. The sound of the glass cabinets being smashed inside the store hastened his decision.

  Elliot sprinted to the front of the van. There was no moon tonight, and vision was limited. He took cover as he was told by the driver’s side front wheel, Allan and Cindy behind pressed up against the side of the van. The Tall Man brought up the rear and took up position by the doors of the van.

  “Mulhaven? Mulhaven, where the fuck are you?” the Tall Man called.

  In the dark, no one saw Mulhaven dash to one side.

  “Mulhaven, you better get your ass back here real fast!” the Tall Man’s voice took on an edge of desperation as groaning sounds drifted from just inside the door of the surplus store.

  A ball of flame erupted at the rear door of the store from a tossed Molotov cocktail. Mulhaven had been busy.

  “JESUS FUCK!” the Tall Man shouted.

  “What the fuck happened?” Elliot asked.

  “Check inside the van. Check inside the van!” Mulhaven yelled, the flames of the explosion shedding an eerie yellow light on one side of him.

  “All clear inside!” the Tall Man answered.

  “Get in, get in, and get that fuckin’ thing started!”

  Mulhaven was panting when he got to the back of the van. The Tall Man took the box of Molotovs from him before helping him into the van.

  “Quick, shut the doors,” he said to the Tall Man before telling Elliot, “step on it!”

  “Oh my God, look!” Cindy was pointing to the back of the store as Elliot spun the tires. “He’s burning. Oh my God!”

  A foamer had come through the back door of the store and was engulfed in flames. It staggered and jumped around violently before being overtaken by the fire. A foamer it may have been, but from the distance of the van, it looked just like any man on fire.

  “I broke the gas mains inside the store. It’ll blow any minute!” Mulhaven said.

  “Oh shit!” Elliot said and slammed his foot down and tore out of the laneway behind the strip of stores.

  “Go, go, go!” Mulhaven yelled, just as Goodwin’s Army/Navy Surplus store exploded.

  A deafening boom reverberated through the van. Debris falling nearby could also be heard. With an explosion of that magnitude and the resultant flames, it wouldn’t be long before every foamer in the city would converge on the spot if their behavior remained consistent. It would also draw any looters left around, sensing an opportunity or perhaps just too drunk to know any better. Any National Guardsman left in the city would come investigating at once. The problem was there were a lot of ifs in that calculation.

  “Man, the back end of the van lifted in the air. Did ya feel it?” Allan said.

  It was the first time he’d spoken since they fled. He was unaware that his face was covered in sweat or that he was breathing so hard that everyone could hear. Allan had never faced such excitement as he had in the last few days, and definitely nothing like the last ten minutes.

  “I didn’t want to leave in the dark, but after that, I think we should continue straight on to Shoshone,” Mulhaven said. “We’ll keep an eye out along the way for another vehicle.”

  “Sounds good to me, Riley. I think some country air will do us all good,” Cindy said.

  “At least we’ll have a better chance of seeing them coming,” the Tall Man added.

  Everyone nodded in agreement except for Elliot. He was concentrating intensely on the road ahead. He’d never experienced driving in such darkness. It was very difficult without street lighting and no ambient light from other cars or the moon. Like a giant sponge, the night soaked up the power of the van’s headlights.

  Elliot turned into Lincoln Street. From there, it was a straight drive to Shoshone. If they could get through.

  “Jeezus …” Elliot brought the Chevy to an abrupt halt. “What should we do?”

  Mulhaven squeezed into the passenger seat next to Elliot.

  “We don’t have much choice, I’m afraid. You two keep loading for me,” the former police sergeant said to Allan and Cindy. “Chuck, you take the ’15 and clean up what you can from behind, but don’t waste ammo, and fer fuck’s sake, don’t fall out!”

  Mulhaven then carefully eased a Remington 1100 tactical out the passenger window. It was a tight space, and he didn’t want to inadvertently blow Elliot’s head off. Mulhaven edged h
is head and shoulder out the window. The Tall Man opened one of the back doors of the van.

  “Keep a strong hold of my belt, Allan. Don’t let me slip.”

  “I won’t, Mr. Black. I promise I won’t!”

  “Let her rip, Elliot. YAHOOOO!”

  The hundreds of foamers wandering Lincoln Street also heard Mulhaven’s war cry, and those were just the ones they could see in the headlights.

  Boom, chunk-chunk. Boom, chunk-chunk. Boom, chunk-chunk. Mulhaven fired and pumped another round into the chamber. He didn’t waste ammo on any of these zombie bastards that were further than five yards.

  Elliot picked up the speed now. He kept the van in a straight line. Fuck any zombie prick that got in his way. Cindy kept her head down, not wanting to see the carnage. Elliot hit one then two then a group of foamers, the wheels bouncing roughly over the bodies, slowing the van down.

  “Hang on, Mr. Black. Hang on!” Allan screamed, reaching out with one arm and grabbing the Tall Man’s jacket.

  “Chuck! Just call me fuckin’ Chuck!”

  The van had slowed considerably right in the midst of a swarm of foamers. The Tall Man opened fire with the AR-15, precise, well-aimed double taps hitting their mark.

  Elliot rammed another head-on. The face of the foamer splatted headfirst into the windscreen, cracking but not breaking it.

  “Oh my fucking God, we’re gonna die!” Cindy screamed.

  “Not if I can help it, we’re not!” Elliot reassured her.

  Elliot dropped a gear and ploughed through, the foamer on the windshield thrashing about momentarily then sliding down the grill. A large splotch of green gunk in front of Elliot’s face remained on the glass, testament to where the foamer’s head had made contact.

  “Load!” Mulhaven passed the 1100 back to Cindy, who was struggling to keep herself together. After a couple of days of foamers, no sleep, blowing the head off a perverted cop, and almost getting eaten by these zombie fuckers, she was unravelling.

  “C’mon, Cindy. We don’t have time to fuck around!”

  “Yes, yes okay!” She handed Mulhaven a fully-loaded 1100 and went to work on loading the one she just received. The van lurched and knocked her to one side. Elliot had run over two more, but this time, the van almost stopped.

  “Let’s get moving, Elliot!” Mulhaven ordered.

  “Okay, okay. I’ve got it.”

  Suddenly, the sliding door on the side of the van flew open. Cindy screamed when she saw a red-eyed foamer hanging on to the edge of the door. The skin on one side of its face had been sheared off, revealing skeletal features and torn tissue.

  “Get back, Cindy. Get back!” the Tall Man yelled from his position in the rear of the van. He couldn’t fire on the abomination for fear of hitting Cindy or Elliot. Allan had frozen into a state of shock. This was his first full contact with a foamer.

  “Fuck you! Fuck you, you cunt!” Cindy summoned the courage, out of fear or anger, she wasn’t sure which, and freed her Colt Delta Elite 10mm from its holster. She aimed directly at the head of the demon only a foot or so away.

  “Eat this, you ugly fucker!”

  She pulled the trigger twice even though the first shot did the job.

  “Slam the door shut. Shut it!” Elliot yelled.

  Allan snapped out of it and closed it with an almighty slam.

  “We’re not going to get through this. There’s too many,” Elliot said.

  “Stop the van, Elliot,” the Tall Man said.

  “Are you crazy?” Elliot, Cindy, and Allan all said in unison. Mulhaven didn’t hear it because he had his head out the window.

  “Just stop the fuckin’ van now. Do it if you want to get out of here!”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Mulhaven shouted.

  He squeezed his head back inside the van when Elliot stopped. There was no time to answer as the first Molotov exploded in front and to the side of the van followed by a second to the opposite side. Intense growls like a pack of angry dogs were heard as the flames covered the foamers from head to foot. The burning foamers ran into others, setting them alight. The heat forced the rest back. Like all animals, the fear of fire was a common denominator. The Tall Man fired two bursts from the AR-15, clearing the way ahead, then bounded aboard the van.

  “Let’s get going, and don’t spare the gas!” he said

  The street ahead had cleared apart from the odd foamer or two up ahead. Most importantly, the van made it through unscathed. They were headed to Shoshone and their future, whatever the future might be, a few hours earlier than originally planned.

  # # #

  “Do you know where Roger lives?” Elliot asked.

  “I don’t know the number, but I remember what street it’s on and what the house looks like,” Allan said.

  “Oh, that’s fuckin’ great. Just great. How are we going to tell in the dark?”

  “Easy, Elliot, take it easy,” Mulhaven had noticed, as had the others, that Elliot was swearing a lot more freely of late. With plenty of rest, he’d be fine. “By the time we get there, it will be daylight, Elliot, and Allan can guide us right to the front door. Right, Allan?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sure, I can do that.”

  They drove a few more blocks alone with their thoughts when Elliot spoke up. “Sorry, Allan. I didn’t mean to …”

  “It’s all right, Elliot. We’ve had a rough night, and it’s not over yet. Let’s get to Shoshone so we can rest up, eh?”

  Elliot nodded. Mulhaven gave Allan a “well done” wink, and the Tall Man patted him on the back. Allan smiled back. He was glad for the Tall Man’s company now even if he was still scared of him.

  “I hope they have some hot water,” Cindy said. “That water back at your store was cold!”

  “They still have the old-fashioned boiler at the farm Roger lives on.”

  “Great! Hot water, here we come. Yay!”

  “That’s one surprise I’d welcome. Let’s hope they don’t have any others,” the Tall Man said grimly.

  They drove on into the night and toward an uncertain destiny.

  Eighteen

  The President had started the meeting in the White House Situation Room with his “insiders,” those he trusted or believed he could, when a rap on the door interrupted them. Tom Transky, the Chief of Staff, entered without waiting for permission; he was expected.

  “What is it, Tom?” the President asked.

  The two went back quite a ways, back when the President was a young senator and Tom was a promising lawyer. The President could read his chief of staff like a book, and Tom could do the same with him.

  “Mr. President, gentlemen,” Tom acknowledged the others at the meeting before continuing, “Director Coltrain’s body was pulled from the Potomac several hours ago. His wife has confirmed his identity.”

  A sigh went around the room. First Flint had disappeared, and now this.

  “What happened, Tom? How did it happen?”

  “Details are sketchy at the moment, but he had a single bullet wound under the chin. His car was found nearby.” Tom paused to let everyone digest the news he’d brought. “Mr. President, it appears at this stage to be suicide.”

  “Suicide!”

  “Yes, sir, I’m afraid so.”

  “Damn it!” the President said, slamming his fist on his desk. “Well, we don’t have time to be concerned with that now. Take a seat, Tom. I’ll let the Secretary of Homeland Security fill you in.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Shaun Hadlee said. “I won’t bore you with details, Tom, but it’s like this. Homeland has assumed complete responsibility to manage this crisis.”

  Tom sat silent, nodding while eyeing the President. This would not be his plan. He wouldn’t put one body or service in charge of the whole thing. He was late to the meeting because of the phone call about the CIA Director, but was he kept from the meeting so the coup d’état could take place?

  “We have decided not to move the ICBMs for the moment, but w
e are putting teams in place to deactivate them should it become necessary.”

  Tom agreed with that. After all, it was an idea he’d floated to the President less than twenty-four hours ago. Hadlee’s mention of “we” concerned him though.

  “Who’s we, Mr. Secretary?” Tom asked.

  “All of us in this room, of course,” Hadlee countered. “The other thing we’ve considered and are going to implement is this: We’re going to blockade Idaho. No one goes in, and no one comes out. Believe me.”

  Tom looked at the President as if to say, “Are you on board with this?” but the President’s reaction told him he wasn’t and probably had no control over it either.

  “We are also going to re-implement the plan of capturing several of these ‘foamers,’ as they’re called, and study them. The aim, however, is not to save them but to find a way that we can test people to see if they have the illness before they turn into a foamer. That’s how we can save the rest of the population.”

  “I see.” Tom stood up, took a look around the room, and gritted his teeth. “You’ve got everything under control then?”

  Tom Transky excused himself and went back to his office. There was still normal government business to attend to. Most people in the country were unaware of what was happening, but every passing minute brought more questions. Perhaps putting the Secretary of Homeland Security in charge was the right thing. He was an ambitious and bull-headed man, but maybe that was what was needed in this case. What Tom didn’t know was that all four of the Armed Services, National Security, the National Guard of every state, and most likely the Boy Scout movement were under the control of Homeland Security. Far more concerning was that Hadlee was now in possession of all the nuclear launch codes and the nuclear football, the briefcase that allowed authorization of a nuclear attack when the President was away from fixed command centers.

  The bloodless coup was perhaps the first step toward the extinction of the human race. The first step toward the Brink.

  The End

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